


Care of Magical Creatures

by persephone_stone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Last Drabble Writer Standing Comp, One-Shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_stone/pseuds/persephone_stone
Summary: A collection of drabbles and shorter one-shots written by yours truly.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 61
Kudos: 93





	1. Table of Contents

**Chapter 1: Table of Contents**

**Chapter 2: Second Thoughts**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 347  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Hogwarts Era, Triwizard Tournament, Pining Draco, Dramione  
***Won 5th Place for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Warm-Up Week: Draco***

 **Chapter 3: Lions and Snakes**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 392  
Warnings: Mild Language  
Tags: Halloween, Domestic Dramione, Nipple Chafing  
***Won 4th Place for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Week 1: Leo***

 **Chapter 4: Three Years of Sundays**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 500  
Warnings: Mild Language  
Tags: Domestic Dramione, Museum Dates, Marriage Proposals

 **Chapter 5: A Push from the Stars**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 500  
Warnings: Mild Language  
Tags: Booze Cruise, Holiday Mixer, Drunk Draco, Dramione 

**Chapter 6: Surprise Performance**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 498  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rocker Hermione, Phoenix Metaphors, Dramione

 **Chapter 7: Zodiac**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 97  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Secret Society, Code Names, Dramione

 **Chapter 8: Refuge and Remembrance**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 394  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: 8th Year Dramione, Healing, Sirius Black  
***Won Nik's Post-Petal Pick for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Week 6: Orion***

 **Chapter 9: Patronus**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 499  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Drarry Bromance, Patronus Practice, Hints of Dramione  


**Chapter 10: Baby Shower**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 100  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Dramione Co-Workers, Snarky Draco  
***Won Overall Runner-Up for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations***

 **Chapter 11: Correspondence**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 399  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Post-War Letters, Apologies, River Metaphors, 8th Year Dramione  
***Won 2nd Place for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Week 8: Eridanus***  
***Won Overall Runner-Up for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations***

 **Chapter 12: Not the Worst Idea**  
Rating: M  
Word Count: 871  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Harmony, Drunk Vegas Shenanigans  


**Chapter 13: Job Satisfaction**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 250  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rare Pair: Charmione, Co-Workers, Hogwarts Professors  


**Chapter 14: Mixed Signals**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 398  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rare Pair: NottPott, Miscommunication, Confident Harry, Vulnerable Theo  


**Chapter 15: Secret Mission**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 449  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rare Pair: Blinny, Spies, Subterfuge  


**Chapter 16: Falsely Accused**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 491  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rare Pair: ParkWeasel, Murder Mystery, Daily Prophet  


**Chapter 17: Illumination**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 97  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rare Pair: Haphne, Hogwarts Era, Secret Crush  


**Chapter 18: Left Hand Yellow**  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 472  
Warnings: N/A  
Tags: Rare Pair: Linny, Muggle Game Night, Secret Crush  
***Won First Place for Last Drabble Writer Standing: Rare Pairs - Week 5: YELLOW***


	2. Second Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Second Thoughts**  
>  Rating: G  
> Word Count: 347  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Hogwarts Era, Triwizard Tournament, Pining Draco  
>  ***Won 5th Place for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Warm-Up Week: Draco***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for the Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition. The theme of this round is constellations, this week's prompt was the constellation DRACO, and the word limit was 350.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789345/chapters/62859814)!

The roar of the crowd was deafening, even louder than the roar of the dragons in the distance, all ready and waiting for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. 

Draco Malfoy sat with the rest of his Slytherin housemates in the makeshift stadium, eyes narrowed at the tent in which Saint Potter and the other champions had disappeared into. He’d been sitting here for hours, arriving long before sunrise, the constellation he was named after still visible in the predawn sky. Lack of sleep and numb fingertips were a small price to pay for ensuring a front-row seat to Potter’s failure. 

He couldn’t bring himself to wish death upon his nemesis, but he _would_ love to see him humiliated and hurt, with maybe a burned arse or a few broken bones.

A flash of red from the corner of his eye dragged his attention away from his daydreams, eyes narrowing at the unmistakable form of Hermione Granger moving stealthily along the outside of the tent, Gryffindor scarf peeking from beneath her mass of hair. 

A hot flush crept up his neck, heart beating faster as he watched her. He cursed himself, cursed his body’s helpless reaction to the graceful way she moved, to the natural beauty of her delicate features. Ever since she had broken his perfect nose at the end of last year, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. She was his biggest secret and his deepest source of confusion. If mudbloods were so inferior, as his father had raised him to believe, then how did one explain _her?_

Just as he thought this, her eyes lifted. Met his. Held. His breath caught in his throat, but then the moment was broken as she ducked inside of the tent.

The next morning, when Draco unfolded his copy of _The Daily Prophet,_ he was greeted with the enormous, heart-shaped headline HARRY POTTER’S SECRET HEARTACHE, complete with a moving photo of Hermione tenderly embracing Potter over and over again. Scowling, he promptly changed his mind. 

He wished that dragon _had_ killed Potter.


	3. Lions and Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 3: Lions and Snakes**  
>  Rating: T  
> Word Count: 392  
> Warnings: Mild Language  
> Tags: Halloween, Domestic Dramione, Nipple Chafing  
>  ***Won 4th Place for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Warm-Up Week: Draco***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's prompt was the constellation LEO, and the word limit was 400.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943836/chapters/63062818).

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this costume, Granger.”

“Stop complaining. You look great.”

Draco scowled down at his bare chest, gleaming with something Hermione had called “baby oil.” A loincloth rode low on his hips, held up by a _very_ carefully-placed sticking charm.

“I look bloody stupid,” he grumbled, fishing for reassurance—and maybe a compliment or two.

Hermione reached up to adjust the head of his Nemean lion cloak, pulling at its glorious mane. “You look fearsome,” she began, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And handsome,” she continued, kissing the tip of his nose. “And braver than the real Heracles ever was,” she finished, finally meeting his lips with hers.

He leaned into the kiss, arms encircling her waist and pulling her against him...only to wince at the cold metal of her armored breastplate coming into contact with his sensitive flesh. 

Athena: goddess of wisdom, war, and nipple chafing. 

Hermione pulled back a bit, an earnest look on her face. “Thank you for coming tonight. It is very brave of you. I know you and Harry—well...tonight is hard for him, and it means a lot to me that you’ll be there.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers, careful not to tangle the lion’s fangs in her crown of olive leaves. “As if there’s anything I wouldn’t do for you, Granger.”

One fine-boned hand left its place on his shoulder, coming to rest over his heart. A silver snake, Athena’s sacred animal, twisted around her ring finger. “Draco.”

“And anyway,” he continued, turning to admire their reflections in the full-length mirror of their bedroom. “Could there be two more appropriate Halloween costumes? Heracles performed his twelve labors—the first of which was slaying this unkillable king of beasts—to cleanse himself of his sins. And Athena saved him—” he broke off, voice cracking, smiling sheepishly at her. 

Hermione cupped his face in her hand. “She saved him when he was a baby. But I am wise enough to know that you no longer need any saving at all.”

She smiled, taking his hand and pulling him out the door of their flat. They walked to the apparition point and with a loud _crack,_ the Slytherin wearing a lion’s coat and the Gryffindor adorned in snakes and armor apparated away, landing together on the front step of 12 Grimmauld Place.


	4. Three Years of Sundays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 4: Three Years of Sundays**  
>  Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: Mild language  
> Tags: Domestic Dramione, Museum Dates, Marriage Proposals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt this week was the constellation PAVO, and the word limit was 500.
> 
> I struggled this week, but based my interpretation of the prompt on this [actual painting](https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/pieter-lastman-juno-discovering-jupiter-with-io) displayed in the National Gallery in London. The first draft of this drabble was 600+ words, so I had to cut a lot out!
> 
> Read all the works in the collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093941/chapters/63470881).

“Come along Granger, stop dragging your feet.”

Hermione scowled good-naturedly up at Draco, but lengthened her stride. His arm came around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as they walked. 

Today was Sunday; a day reserved just for them. They had spent three years of Sundays this way: exploring museums, dining at muggle restaurants, tending to the life—and love—they had carefully built in the time since Dark Wizards, horcruxes, and killing curses had shattered their adolescence. 

Today they went to one of Hermione’s favorite spots: The National Gallery. They wandered the parqueted halls, admiring the masterpieces of Michelangelo and Monet. Hermione was so engrossed that it took a moment for her to notice Draco hanging back, staring into space.

She laid a hand against the broad expanse of his back. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” he murmured, taking her hand. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I know. You tossed and turned for hours.” She peered up at him, noticing the strain on his handsome face. “Would you like to go home? We could have a lazy day in bed.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Tempting, Granger. But not before we see the Dutch masters you love so much.” 

Yet even Rembrandt and Van Gogh couldn’t hold Draco’s attention, so absorbed was he in his thoughts. 

In a room off the main hall he finally stopped, eyes fixed on the nearest painting. Four figures—in various states of distress and dishevelment—gathered around a large white cow. 

“What the _hell_ is this?” he asked.

Hermione came up beside him. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I know this myth.”

He arched a brow at her, temporarily distracted from his strange mood.

“Zeus—that arsehole there,” she pointed, “took Io as a lover. The cow,” she added, laughing as Draco blanched. “He turned her into a cow _afterwards._ So Hera wouldn’t know.”

“Problematic on many levels, but continue.”

“Hera sent Argus, a giant with 100 eyes, to watch Io. Long story short: Zeus had Argus killed. To honor him, Hera placed his eyes on the tail of her sacred animal: the peacock.” She gestured at the goddess’s chariot, drawn by two of the magnificent birds.

Draco snorted. “Bloody menaces, peacocks.”

She nodded. “How can such beautiful birds make such terrible noises?”

A short while later, they exited the gallery, heading out to Trafalgar Square. Between the enormous fountains Draco stopped suddenly, turning to face her. His expression was anxious, but earnest. 

“Granger, look. I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to do this, but I really can’t wait a moment longer.” 

He took her hands in his, and she felt him tremble. 

Slowly, he dropped to one knee, eyes bright with unshed tears. 

Her heart rate tripled. 

“Hermione, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. Will you allow me the very great honor of being your husband?”

The noises Hermione made as she accepted—throwing herself into his arms, laughing and shrieking and crying—surely rivaled those of any peacock.


	5. A Push from the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Push from the Stars  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt this week was the constellation PYXIS (compass).
> 
> The word limit was 500.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206486/chapters/63778879).

After the war, the Ministry of Magic made many changes. 

Some were welcome—such as allowing qualified, redeemed former Death Eaters to be hired on as members of the Wizengamot. 

Others were ridiculous, at least in Hermione’s opinion—such as the holiday mixers. More specifically, _this_ holiday mixer—a boozy night cruise down the Thames, complete with several Aurors singing a drunken rendition of a muggle Christmas song and the Chief Warlock vomiting over the front railing. 

Hermione sat alone at the back of the boat, eyes on the night sky and mind adrift. She’d love the stars to guide her as they had once guided voyagers of old, but neither constellations nor compasses would be much help with matters of the heart. 

As if her thoughts had summoned him, a shock of pale blonde hair appeared in her peripheral vision. Draco dropped heavily onto the bench beside her, nudging her knee with his and grinning cheekily. 

“You need to come inside and deal with Potter. Poor wanker can’t handle his liquor.” He swayed toward her, his disparagement of Harry quite ruined by a loud, involuntary hiccup.

“Hmm,” she replied, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Seems he’s not the only one.”

He scoffed, over-correcting and leaning wildly in the opposite direction. Hermione lurched forward to grab at his arms and prevent him from falling on his posh arse, but—caught in the tide of his backward momentum—they both tumbled off the bench, landing in an undignified heap against the glossy wooden deck.

Groaning, Hermione tried to roll off of him, but his arms came around her, holding her tightly against his chest. “Hold on Granger,” his voice rumbled against her ear. “You looked sad. Like you could use a hug. ‘S why I came out here.”

To her utter mortification, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She _could_ use a hug. But the fact that she wanted it from him—that she _wanted him_ —was the reason she felt so unmoored.

After an indeterminable amount of time, during which his arms remained about her, fingers trailing lightly up and down her spine, she lifted her head. “Alright, Malfoy. You may release me now.”

His arms dropped away, and she immediately mourned the loss.

They sat up, beside one another, faces once again turned to the stars. 

“What’s wrong, Granger?”

She sighed. “I’m confused. That’s all.”

“That’s _all?_ If Hermione Granger—she of brave heart, unparalleled brain, and steadfast moral compass—is confused, then what hope is there for the rest of us?”

“You’re all fucked, obviously.”

He let out an inelegant snort. “You’re funny when I’m drunk.”

“I’m funny always. You’ve just underestimated me for too long.”

“Yes.” His voice had lost its teasing edge; it swirled—sincere and heartfelt—into the space between them. “Yes, I have.”

She met his eyes, shivering at the intensity she found there.

Perhaps she’d been wrong before, Hermione decided, swaying—with intention—toward him once more, her lips finding his. Perhaps what she’d needed was a push from the stars.


	6. Surprise Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco doesn't know why Pansy has dragged him to a new club in Diagon Alley...until a blast from his past takes the stage.
> 
> Title: Surprise Performance  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: N/A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt this week was the constellation PHOENIX.
> 
> The word limit was 500.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357551/chapters/64255234).

“ _Now_ can you tell why we’re here, Pans?” Draco drawled, doing his best to look bored. 

She turned to him, grinning like the Cheshire cat in that weird muggle book. “You do _not_ want to miss this band. Trust me, Draco.”

The club was packed, wizards and witches jostling each other to get closer to the stage. Finally, the lights dimmed, sending up a wave of cheers from the crowd. A magically-amplified voice filled the room, sexy and swotty and so utterly familiar that a bolt of electricity sizzled down Draco’s spine.

“We are Phoenix Rising, and we are here to rock your world!”

Draco gaped at Pansy, who was practically cackling with glee. 

And then there she was. 

Hermione Granger. 

_Merlin’s balls,_ Draco thought, eyes trailing helplessly over her as she took her place in front of the microphone, an electric blue guitar looped over her shoulder. Two women took the stage behind her—one heading to the drums, the other to a set of keyboards. 

Draco was sure he knew who they were, but he was so laser-focused on Hermione, on her wildly curling hair and ruby red lips and fucking _tight_ leather pants, that he couldn’t be bothered to look twice at anyone else.

She leaned into the microphone. “Alright, Diagon?” she asked, voice playful, eyes scanning the crowd. 

He knew the moment she saw him. She jumped in surprise, but recovered quickly, a broad grin breaking out across her face. 

“It looks like we’re not the only phoenixes here tonight,” she said, holding his gaze. “If you’re like us, and you’ve built a new life from the ashes of your old one, then we want you to know that we see you. We _are_ you.”

Draco’s mouth was dry, his heart beating fast enough to bruise his ribs. He blinked, feeling light-headed. 

“Now let’s rock!”

Draco spent the next hour in a very uncomfortable state, torn between shock— _holy shit, that is **Granger** licking a microphone_—and arousal— _holy shit, that is Granger **licking a microphone**._

When their set ended, Hermione leapt off the stage and made a beeline toward him. He stood up straight, clearing his throat and adjusting the front of his trousers, bracing himself for either a verbal lashing or another slap to the face.

So he was surprised when instead she opened her arms, wrapping them around his shoulders and putting her red, red mouth next to his ear, whispering, “I’m so glad you came.”

He pulled back, searching her face, finding nothing but sincerity there.

Her arms were still around him. _Why were her arms still around him?_ She hated him...didn’t she?

“I meant what I said,” she murmured, voice husky from singing. “We’ve both changed. We’re not those scared, broken children anymore. That’s why I asked Pansy to bring you tonight.”

His eyebrows shot up, nearly to his hairline. “You _what?”_

She smiled, taking his hand. “Let me buy you a drink, Draco. We have a lot of catching up to do.”


	7. Zodiac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Zodiac  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 100  
> Warnings: N/A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme this week was LIBRA (justice).
> 
> The word limit was 100 words MAX.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477320/chapters/64595371).

Torchlight flickered over the damp stones of the dungeon as twelve hooded figures gathered in a circle, a zodiac symbol shimmering above each of their heads.

One of the figures spoke, voice solemn. “The Zodiac Alliance has again been called upon to preserve peace in the wizarding world. We will need our strongest members to lead us on our mission.”

He turned. “Libra, who would you have join you?”

The scales of justice held steady as she removed her hood, curls spilling over her shoulders.

Across the circle, her lover’s silver eyes met hers. 

She smiled.

“Scorpio.”


	8. Refuge and Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Refuge and Remembrance  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 394  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Hogwarts 8th Year, Healing, Sirius Black  
>  ***Won Nik's Post Petal Pick for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Week 6: Orion***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme this week was ORION (the hunter).
> 
> Each drabble had to be EXACTLY 394 words.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588851/chapters/64919062).

The night air had teeth, biting sharply at the delicate skin of Hermione’s throat as she ascended the stairs. She pulled the collar of her coat higher and whispered a warming charm, so desperate to flee the trauma-steeped silence of the 8th year common room that she was willing to risk freezing to death atop the Astronomy Tower. 

At least up here, she could be alone with her thoughts. She wouldn’t have to smile or pretend that everything was fine, that she hadn’t spent the last year hunting and being hunted—always thinking, always moving, always afraid. 

As her feet reached the landing she froze, arrested by the sight of the tall, lone figure at the railing, silhouetted by moonlight. 

She must have made a noise for he turned, eyes widening at the sight of her but mouth surprisingly not twisting into a sneer. He nodded once, then turned his back on her, pale head lifted to the stars. 

She hesitated, unsure whether to stay or seek a different refuge, when he spoke. 

“You’re welcome to stay, Granger.”

The breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding escaped in a rush, freeing her frozen limbs from their stasis. She moved slowly, joining him at the railing, eyes on the night sky rather than the more dangerous destination of his face. 

They stood, together yet alone, until he made a soft humming sound and gestured toward a cluster of stars. “I was looking at Orion’s belt,” he said, voice quieter and more earnest than she’d ever heard it. “It points to the brightest star in the sky.”

“Sirius,” she breathed. 

“Sirius,” he agreed.

“You never knew him.”

“No.” 

She risked a glance at him then, surprised to find his eyes glassy with tears. Against her better judgment, she reached toward him, covering his hand with her own. He blinked, dropping his gaze to their joined hands against the railing, fingers flexing briefly before relaxing beneath hers.

“I—I didn’t know him well, but I did know him,” she said quietly; an offering, free from obligations. 

He accepted wordlessly, lifting his eyes to meet hers. 

She shivered.

“He was—well, I suppose he was rather brave. He went against his family, the things he’d been raised to believe, the most evil wizard to ever live, in order to do what was right.”

Draco nodded, captivated but cautious. “Tell me more?”


	9. Patronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Patronus  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Drarry Bromance, Patronus Practice, Hints of Dramione  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the semi-final round of Dramione LDWS.
> 
> The theme for this week was CORVUS (raven).
> 
> The word limit was 500.
> 
> Read the rest of the collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740783/chapters/65238253).

“Alright, let’s try again.” Potter’s voice was patient as he nodded at Draco across the small back garden of Grimmauld Place. “Remember, think of a happy memory before you cast.”

Draco rolled his shoulders, attempting to shake off the disappointment of trying—and once again failing—to cast a Patronus. It was an important skill for an Auror to have, he knew, but most Aurors were not 1) former Death Eaters with 2) literal dark magic inked into their flesh and 3) inescapable memories of one’s home simultaneously being one’s prison, the jailer a homicidal maniac who threatened to murder one’s entire family if his commands weren’t immediately obeyed.

Nevertheless, he dug deep, determined not to embarrass himself in front of Potter. Not that the other wizard would mock or belittle him for his failures—Potter was _annoyingly_ kind, setting the tone for the rest of the Aurors—but due to his own deep-seated feelings of inadequacy when compared directly to his childhood nemesis.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His heart rate steadied, and he focused on his happiest memories, pushing everything else from his mind.

 _Her eyes,_ sparking with fond frustration as they argued over a bit of obscure knowledge in the breakroom at work.

 _Her hair,_ blowing gently in the breeze as they walked to lunch together, teasing him with the apple-vanilla scent of her curls.

 _Her laugh,_ sincere and surprisingly addictive, compelling him to go out of his way every day to make her laugh.

 _Her arms,_ wrapped around his shoulders as an apology wrenched itself from his chest, whispering her forgiveness while he trembled against her.

 _Her lips,_ soft and full and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.

 _Her hand,_ proudly holding his when she introduced him as her boyfriend for the very first time.

 _Her smile,_ warm and so beautiful, spreading across her face when he told her he loved her.

 _Her voice,_ telling him she loved him, too.

A warm feeling spread through Draco’s chest—happiness, affection, peace, love—and he opened his eyes. Lifting his wand, he spoke, voice clear and confident.

 _“Expecto Patronum!”_

Warm magic rushed through his body, starting in his chest, speeding down his arm, and bursting from the end of his wand with such force that he had to take a step back, steadying himself.

Above his head, soaring proudly in a circle, was a raven. Its glossy black wings and intelligent eyes were immediately recognizable, even in Patronus form.

Draco stared for a moment before turning to grin like an idiot at Potter. “I did it,” he said, voice hushed with awe.

“Not quite the white peacock I was expecting,” Potter said, shaking Draco’s hand. “But I reckon it’s appropriate. Ravens are bad-tempered birds, but incredibly devoted to the ones they love.” He smiled, eyes twinkling mischievously. “And they mate for life.”

Draco rolled his eyes, not bothering to take the bait. “See you at work tomorrow, you prat,” he called over his shoulder, heading to the Floo. To home. To _her._


	10. Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Baby Shower  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 100  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Co-workers, Snarky Draco  
>  ***Won Overall Runner-Up for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the FINAL round of the Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition. 
> 
> The theme of this week was ERIDANUS (celestial river).
> 
> We had to write 2 drabbles this week: one that was exactly 100 words, and one that was up to 400 words.
> 
> This is my 100 word drabble, Baby Shower.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880439/chapters/65606905).

A river of baby gifts flowed through the Ministry cafeteria, twinkling fairy lights along one wall spelling out the baby’s name: _Eridanus._

Hermione hid in a corner, attempting to avoid the inevitable questions from her co-workers about when _she_ was going to get married and have babies.

“Fancy some room-temperature punch, Granger?” 

Draco dropped into the chair to her left. “If I ever have children, I will positively insist that no part of my baby’s name include the word _anus._ ”

She snorted. “You’ll have to find a witch who’ll put up with you first.”

He smiled cheekily. “Maybe I have.”


	11. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Correspondence  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 399  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Post-War Letters, Apologies, River Metaphors, 8th Year Dramione  
>  ***Won 2nd Place for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations, Week 8: Eridanus***  
>  ***Won Overall Runner-Up for Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing: Constellations***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme for this week was ERIDANUS (celestial river).
> 
> This is my second drabble, Correspondence.
> 
> Read the entire collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880439/chapters/65606905%22).

Granger,

I realize this letter may come as a surprise, but the terms of my probation include seeing a therapist, who insists I write an apology to someone I have wronged. One of my “rivers to cross,” as she put it. 

I’m quite certain owls don’t deliver post to the afterlife, and I wouldn’t know where to begin in my apologies to every witch, wizard, and muggle hurt by my blind stupidity and cowardice. That leaves just one person who both deserves an apology from me _and_ would also be willing to hear it. 

You.

I am so sorry. 

For my behavior toward you at Hogwarts. For ever calling you that foul name. And for standing by while my aunt hurt you. 

For that, especially. 

Sincerely,  
Draco Malfoy

**************

Hello again Granger,

I was relieved to receive your owl. Thank you, most sincerely, for your kindness. 

And no, I didn’t know there was a muggle song called “Many Rivers to Cross.” I’ll give it a listen, since my therapist obviously has. 

I’m happy to hear you are returning to Hogwarts, but no, I won’t be attending. No one wants me there, and I’m not sure I could handle walking those halls again. 

As always, you are far braver than me. 

-DLM

**************

Me again. Just a quick note to let you know I listened to the song. It was...

Well, it made me _feel_ things. Especially the line about wandering and being lost. 

I don’t have to tell you that I’ve been lost for awhile, Granger.

**************

Despite your continued attempts at convincing me, I remain steadfast in my decision about Hogwarts.

Do you know what happened to me when I ventured out to Diagon Alley last week? 

I was denied entry into every shop. 

I was called “Death Eater scum.” 

I was spit on. 

And I deserved it all.

I know you’d be at school with me, but I won’t put that on you. I can’t let you throw everything away to be my friend.

**************

You win, Granger. I do believe you have a future in the Wizengamot.

Since you’re determined to—as you put it—cross this river with me, I find that I can’t bring myself to disappoint you. Who knew Gryffindor courage was contagious?

See you at the train station. I’ll be the tall, pale, pointy git waiting for his rather stubborn— and delightful—new friend. 

-Draco


	12. Not the Worst Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some drunk Harmony shenanigans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate a few milestones in my fanfic journey, I spun a Wheel of Doom with characters and tropes. Despite some TRULY crazy/inspired entries, the one my wheel spit out was: Harry + Hermione + Get Drunk and Get Married.
> 
> So here you go.

Harry opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight—made harsher by the massive hangover currently drilling a hole through his skull. 

He rolled, taking the soft sheets of the hotel bed with him as he fumbled on the nightstand for his watch, which—once it stopped blurring and multiplying before his eyes—told him that it was 7:13am. 

What his _hand_ told him—or rather, what it would have told him, if it was able to speak—was that he was apparently now a man who wore jewelry. Specifically, a thick gold band on the fourth finger of his left hand. 

He frowned, inspecting the ring carefully. When had he bought it? 

The night before was something of a blur. His last clear memory was of sitting in a private room at The Bellagio, playing a lively game of poker with his fellow Quidditch team owners. His team manager and lifelong best friend, Hermione Granger, had also been there, and she’d wiped the floor with all of them. 

A soft groan behind him had him turning over quickly, heart pounding and stomach roiling. 

The sheets twisted with his movement, revealing the long, smooth leg and shapely bare backside of a woman in his bed. 

Oh fuck, had he hired an escort?

He looked at the ring on his hand and felt his heart seize. Had he _married_ an escort?!

The woman groaned again, apparently suffering the same after-effects from the night before. She reached one delicate hand up, attempting to pull the sheets more tightly around her head—

And dislodged the bedding enough to send a mass of chestnut curls spilling into his view. 

“Oh, gods,” she moaned, in a very swotty, very familiar voice.

Harry’s mind went blank. 

Hermione was in his bed. 

Hermione was _naked_ in his bed. 

Hermione Granger, one of his oldest, dearest friends who viewed him as a brother (despite that incident two Christmasses ago where they’d both had too much eggnog, found themselves standing beneath mistletoe, and laughingly shared a sweet, innocent kiss—a kiss that quickly turned into an out-of-control snogging session before they were interrupted by Luna Lovegood) was currently naked. 

In his bed. 

Wearing—he leaned over to check, grimacing when he had confirmation—a truly enormous diamond ring on her left hand. 

He flopped back onto his own pillow, summoning two travel bottles of hangover potion from his suitcase. He floated one to Hermione’s nightstand, downing his own as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to remember the events of the previous night. 

He remembered poker. 

He remembered drinking— _so_ much drinking. 

As he felt the hangover potion start to kick in, he remembered more—Hermione laughing, taking his hand, threading their fingers together and smiling at him like he was the only man in the room. 

He remembered excusing himself to use the bathroom. He remembered finding her waiting for him in the hallway, a needy look in her eyes. 

He remembered stepping in close and whispering her name. He remembered feeling her fingers wrap around his tie and pull him closer. He remembered gripping her hips like a lifeline as he lowered his mouth to hers. He remembered goosebumps lifting on his arms when she enthusiastically opened to him.

He remembered tearing his mouth away from hers, whispering raggedly in her ear as she nipped at the skin of his throat. He remembered telling her how often he’d thought of this, how long he’d wanted this, how much he’d tried to deny his feelings for her because he didn’t think she’d ever feel the same.

He remembered her looking up at him, brown eyes wide and full of tears, confessing that she’d loved him for as long as she could remember—as a friend, yes, but also as a man. 

He remembered suggesting they get married at the little chapel a short way down the Strip—and instead of laughing or suggesting he was being ridiculous, she’d simply grinned and nodded.

The memories got a bit fuzzy again after that, but Harry doggedly sorted through them in his mind. Several bottles of the finest muggle champagne, two rings from a jeweler’s shop, one simple white dress and one less simple tuxedo, one large bouquet of white roses, and one marriage license for the state of Nevada.

One walk up the aisle to a song performed by an Elvis Presley impersonator, one set of short, impersonal vows, and one long, passionate kiss. One limousine ride back to their hotel, one elevator ride up to Harry’s room, and one very—erm, _acrobatic_ —ride to consummate their union.

He turned his head on the pillow, taking in the sight of his hungover wife. 

_His wife._

He sat up in bed. Every trace of his earlier panic was gone; in its place was a warm, content feeling in his chest, as though something he’d always been looking for had finally been found.

Yes, they’d need to have a talk—about their feelings, about their situation, about what to do next—but he couldn’t bring himself to be too upset at the moment.

After all, he thought, reaching out a hand to brush her curls back from her face—smiling at the glint of his ring when it caught the light—him and Hermione? 

It wasn’t the worst idea.


	13. Job Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Job Satisfaction  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 250  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Charmione, Co-Workers, Hogwarts Professors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Round 3 of the **Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition: RARE PAIRS**. The theme of this round is **COLORS**. This week's prompt was Red/Passion, the pairing was Charlie Weasley/Hermione Granger, and the word limit was 250.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956825/chapters/71054721)!

She was perched in an armchair in the professors’ lounge, fingers twisting nervously in her skirt, when he walked in. 

He looked different since she’d last seen him. His hair was shorter, the red curls cropped close to his head. The dragon fang earring he’d once been so fond of was gone, and he’d traded his leather jacket for professor’s robes.

But he was also the same. Same broad shoulders. Same chiseled jaw. Same dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he saw her, a grin spreading across his face.

“Hermione? What’re you doing here?” 

His voice was the same, too: deep and rich, sending a trickle of heat through her veins. He crossed the room in three strides, pulling her into his arms and spinning her until she felt dizzy. 

“Hi, Charlie.” She wobbled when he put her down, flushing as his hands found her waist to steady her. “I’m waiting for McGonagall. I—I have a job interview.”

“Oh yeah?” He was very close. She could smell his cologne—sandalwood and cinnamon—and shook her head to clear it.

“I’ve been thinking about leaving the Ministry for awhile, and when the History of Magic position opened up—”

He cut her off with a loud whoop and another fierce hug. “Of course! You’re perfect for it. You’ve always been so passionate about history, and school, and—well, a life without passion isn’t worth living, right?”

The dimple appeared again as he pulled back, his hands warm on hers.

She inhaled shakily. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, Charlie is the Care of Magical Creatures professor! And Hermione gets the job. :)


	14. Mixed Signals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry decides to chat up Theo at a bar. It doesn’t go the way he planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Round 3 of the Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition: RARE PAIRS. The theme of this round is COLORS. This week's prompt was Blue/Calm, the pairing was Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, and the word limit was 400.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123787/chapters/71593131)!

Amidst the drab furnishings of The Leaky Cauldron, Theo Nott stood out. More specifically: his expertly-tailored, grotesquely expensive, shockingly bright cobalt blue _suit_ stood out.

His handsome face, lanky physique, and artfully tousled hair didn’t help. 

At least, not in Harry’s opinion.

And Harry—feeling quite pleasantly soused from several rounds of Butterbeer, quite blissfully free of his usual reservations and insecurities, and also quite exceptionally _interested_ in his former schoolmate—had decided to make his opinion known.

He strode to the bar, stumbling only once on the way, and dropped into the seat beside Theo. Leaning forward, he carefully tapped the other man’s shoulder. “Erm, Theo? Theo Nott?”

Theo turned, lifting an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Harry opened his mouth. Closed it. Grimaced when he realized he had absolutely no idea how to do this.

A resigned look appeared on Theo’s face. “You too, huh? Well, then.” He stood slowly, straightening his jacket and lifting his chin. “Go ahead, let me have it. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Nothing I don’t deserve as the son of a Death Eater, I suppose.”

Harry blinked in confusion. “I—”

“The bastard’s dead, thank Merlin, but I’ll pass along your remarks the next time I spit on his grave.”

“No, I—”

Theo’s cheeks flushed, and he huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Come now, Potter, I expected more from the Chosen One. I was there when you told off Umbridge, I know you have a temper—”

Harry had heard enough. He surged to his feet, one hand reaching out to grasp Theo’s. His other hand came up to rest against Theo’s chest, palm pressed tightly over his racing heart. “Calm down, Theo. _Please._ I’m not here to berate you.” 

He watched Theo’s pupils, blown wide with anxiety, slowly return to their normal size as the words sank in. He took a deep breath, nodding when Theo mimicked the action. He licked his lips, felt his own heartbeat trip in his chest when Theo’s eyes—a different shade of blue than his suit, but still rather mesmerizing—dropped to his mouth.

“I just wanted to buy you a drink,” Harry murmured quietly. His earlier buzz was gone; in its place was a warm, tingling anticipation.

Theo’s nostrils flared, fingers flexing in Harry’s grasp. “You did?”

Harry nodded. “Still do, really.”

Theo grinned, then sat once more, pulling Harry down next to him. “Well. Why didn’t you say so?”


	15. Secret Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Round 3 of the **Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition: RARE PAIRS**. The theme of this round is **COLORS**. This week's prompt was Green/Jealousy, the pairing was Blaise Zabini/Ginny Weasley, and the word limit was 450.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263536/chapters/72082188)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Secret Mission  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A

Music filled the palace gardens, spilling out of the ballroom doors that had been thrown wide into the cool night air. Inside, lords and ladies of French wizarding nobility whirled and spun in a kaleidoscope of colors and fabrics: red silk, orange tulle, blue velvet, purple chiffon.

Ginny strolled across the terrace, taking extra care to let her hips sway beneath her own gown of emerald satin.

Flames from the torchieres hissed and spit in the damp air, but Ginny’s nerves were steady as she descended the stairs and made her way toward the garden maze, luring her prey. Her lips curled into a smile when she heard his footsteps behind her. 

As a member of the DMLE’s Secret Intelligence Force, she’d trained for this. Spent months studying her target, planning her mission, setting her trap. Now the time had finally come to spring that trap: to arrest Antoine Nicolay, the wizard responsible for stealing Ministry secrets and selling them to an underground network of anti-Ministry radicals. His actions had led to dozens of attacks and hundreds of deaths, and he’d evaded capture for over a year.

His reign of terror ended tonight.

“Ginevra.” 

The voice came not from the man behind her, but from her partner, his deep baritone echoing through the tiny speaker in her ear. 

“Not now, Blaise,” she hissed.

“I sincerely hope you’re not heading anywhere alone with that bastard.”

“Jealous?”

No answer came. _Good,_ she thought. She couldn’t afford any distractions. 

She turned a corner of the maze and stopped, leaning against the tall hedge and fanning herself dramatically.

“Ah, mon chère." Nicolay’s voice, excited by the prospect of catching her alone, made Ginny’s stomach twist in disgust.

“Oh, no,” she giggled, deliberately stumbling as he approached. “I think I had too much to drink.”

He caught her waist, pulling her against him. “Don’t worry,” he murmured into her temple. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Swallowing the bile that burned the back of her throat, Ginny slid one hand into his greasy hair, re-directing his attention to her neckline. Her other hand dropped to the slit of her dress, fingers gripping the wand hidden in her thigh holster.

Seconds before Nicolay’s lips could connect with the skin of her throat, her wand connected with his.

 _“Immobulus,_ ” she spat, stepping back when she felt his body still.

A twig snapped behind her and she spun, wand raised. 

Blaise stood there, hands raised, eyes roving over her in obvious concern. “Alright, Gin?”

She dropped her wand, nodding once.

He strode toward her, aiming a savage kick at Nicolay before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Nice work, partner.”

She smiled. “Thank you, my love.”


	16. Falsely Accused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16: Falsely Accused  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 491  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Rare Pair: ParkWeasel, Murder Mystery, Daily Prophet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Round 3 of the **Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition: RARE PAIRS**. The theme of this round is **COLORS**. This week's prompt was Grey/Complexity, the pairing was Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley, and the word limit was 500.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512155/chapters/72548784)!

**The Daily Prophet**

2/10/09

Stormclouds filled the London sky this morning, but the gloomy weather couldn’t dampen a palpable sense of scandal-ridden curiosity that swirled through the air, courtesy of the start of the highest-profile case the Wizengamot has heard in years.

I am referring, of course, to the case of Contessa Pansy Rovina, née Parkinson, who stands accused of the murder of her late husband: Marco, Conte di Sardinia. The fashionable widow appeared in court today in a demure black dress of wool crepe, her face obscured behind a sheer veil.

Defending the Contessa is barrister Percy Weasley, widely believed to be the most brilliant—and most expensive—mind in British wizarding law. He’s made quite the name for himself since the war, and in a surprise twist to those of us who knew him when he was Head Boy at Hogwarts (this reporter included), Weasley has become rather...well… _fit._

In today’s opening arguments, Weasley passionately defended the Contessa’s innocence. You could hear a pin drop at the end of his remarks, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that the defendant’s eyes were glued to Weasley the entire time he spoke, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with some unnamed emotion. 

In her only planned statement to the court, the Contessa simply said: “I did not kill my husband. I have been framed.”

At first glance, the case seems to be rather complex, lacking clear black and white answers. I will be present in the courtroom for the duration of the trial, and will of course continue to report all the facts to you, dear reader.

**The Daily Prophet**

2/14/09

One would think that Mr. Weasley’s jokester brother had released one of his Wildfire Whiz-Bangs inside the courtroom today, given the explosive nature of the hearing.

Weasley brought out the fireworks when he called the late Conte’s nephew (and current Conte di Sardinia) Alfredo Rovina to the stand. He proceeded to question him _most_ aggressively on all manner of topics, including his eye-popping gambling debt, which he’d have been hard-pressed to pay off unless he inherited his uncle’s title and fortune. 

Weasley went on to ask if Alfredo knew that one could make a potent form of cyanide (a poison which, according to the Italian ministry’s autopsy report, was found in abundance in the late Conte’s system) by grinding up the pits of cherries (a fruit which, according to anyone with eyes, grows in abundance in the Rovina estate’s orchards).

Only the most eagle-eyed reporter could have seen Weasley tip a vial of what could only be Veritaserum into Alfredo’s cup of tea before his testimony began, and so would of course be shocked when the cunning current Conte confessed to the contemptible crime.

Lucky for you, dear reader, I am no ordinary reporter.

And if such an eagle-eyed reporter saw the Contessa and her barrister tenderly embracing after she was cleared of all charges, well…

She would say good for them.


	17. Illumination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Illumination  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 97  
> Warnings: N/A  
> Tags: Rare Pair - Haphne, Hogwarts Era, Secret Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Round 3 of the **Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition: RARE PAIRS**. The theme of this round is **COLORS**. This week's prompt was Orange/Creativity, the pairing was Harry Potter/Daphne Greengrass, and the word limit was 100.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645718/chapters/72886338)!

Daphne runs, blind to the fiery orange sunset as she retraces her steps, desperate to recover what she’s lost. 

She rounds a corner, skids to a stop when she sees it—sees _him_ holding it, slowly flipping through the pages. 

She must make a noise, because he looks up. She’s glad he’s alone, that no one will witness her humiliation. 

The journal is open to her favorite sketch: the one she’s spent hours on, carefully shading the planes of his face, the glint of his glasses, his lightning-shaped scar.

To her surprise, he smiles. “You’re talented.”

She glows.


	18. Left Hand Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Left Hand Yellow**  
>  Rating: T  
>  Word Count: 472  
>  Warnings: N/A  
>  Tags: Rare Pair: Linny, Muggle Game Night, Secret Crush  
>  ***Won First Place for Last Drabble Writer Standing: Rare Pairs - Week 5: YELLOW***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Round 3 of the **Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition: RARE PAIRS**. The theme of this round is **COLORS**. This week's prompt was Yellow/Playful, the pairing was Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood, and the word limit was 500.
> 
> Read the whole collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832441/chapters/73402563)!
> 
> I was very pleasantly surprised to win first place this week!

“Right hand red!”

Ginny groans quietly as Hermione calls out the move. Not because she can’t reach the red dot on the plastic game mat—she absolutely _can,_ thanks to the daily warm-up stretches she does with the Harpies—but because doing so puts her in close proximity to the papaya-vanilla scent of Luna Lovegood’s intricate braid. 

Luna’s hair reminds her of corn silk: an analogy Ginny’s sure Luna would appreciate if she were brave enough to share it with her. But Ginny’s determined not to let her stubborn attraction to her best friend distract her from winning this stupid game, so she merely concentrates harder on twisting her body into a myriad of unnatural positions without falling over.

Harry and Hermione’s tendency to champion lost causes hasn’t faded in the years since the war. Ginny’s fierce loyalty to her friends hasn’t either, so she dutifully turns up to Grimmauld Place every Friday night, playing all sorts of nonsensical muggle games with Harry’s pointy-faced Auror partner, his doe-eyed _partner_ partner, and a rotating miscellany of their former classmates. 

Which is how she’s ended up in this particular mess.

Desperate to keep her eyes from returning to Luna, she turns to watch tonight’s other two players. She hears Harry smother a laugh as Theo pushes his arse high into the air, bringing it perilously close to Draco’s scowling face. The next move _—right foot blue—_ eliminates them both.

Hermione calls out another command _—left foot green—_ and Ginny arches her back, swinging her left foot underneath her opposite leg to land solidly on the nearest available green dot. Once she feels steady, she glances up. Luna is gazing calmly back at her, albeit upside down and backwards through her legs. 

Ginny’s cheeks flush, and she quickly drops her eyes.

She takes a deep breath, summoning all the focus and obstinacy she’s learned from playing professional quidditch—to say nothing of growing up with six brothers—and listens for Hermione’s next instruction.

“Left hand yellow!”

Her eyebrows draw together as she plans her move. She shifts her weight, twists her body, and stretches her left hand all the way over to the yellow dot.

She barely has time to exhale before Luna’s hand lands firmly on top of hers. Her fingers slip between Ginny’s own, squeezing gently. When Ginny looks up and sees the triumphant expression on Luna’s face, she realizes she’s not the only one who’s been planning a move.

“We’re both quite good at this game, aren’t we?” Luna’s voice is soft; only for Ginny’s ears. “I must confess though—I’m quite tired of playing games with you.” She tilts her head forward, bringing her lips within a hair’s breadth of Ginny’s.

Ginny’s arms tremble. She couldn’t move if she wanted to.

“Both flexible, too,” Luna whispers, like it’s something that’s just occurred to her.

Ginny falls flat on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as [persephonestone](http://persephonestone.tumblr.com).


End file.
